Heroes
by Jimperbam
Summary: The Winchesters have impacted a lot of people in their lives, some deeply enough to want to follow in their footsteps.
1. Musings

Alright, so, after years of hoarding fics, I finally decided to start posting again. Supernatural is the name of the game this time. I was thinking about how many kids have been influenced by the supernatural/the Winchesters saving them (the kids from Something Wicked, especially), and this just kinda fell onto paper. Hope you like it~

Obviously the Winchesters do not belong to me, no matter how many pictures of them I have plastered on my walls. Hannah is mine, and I'll split the other characters with Kripke; he gave the basic background but I filled in the majority of their personalities.

Mom died of a brain tumor and I thank whatever god that might be out there for it. It was quick and relatively painless.  
>I remember sitting in the cold plastic chairs of the waiting room, praying, wishing, bargaining with an unknown deity to fix her. It's how I spent most of my time; the silence from above never disheartened me, just made me try harder to be heard.<br>One day my whispered stream of pleas was interrupted. A woman addressed me by name. I looked up, expecting a nurse, but she was clad in a professional black suit jacket and skirt. "Are you a social worker?" I inquired.  
>She didn't answer that, but said without great inflection, "Your prayers have been heard."<br>All the jade from my past few years forgotten, I latched onto her words. "Can you make my mom better?" ashed her desperately.  
>"No."<br>"N-No? But I thought you said-"  
>"Your mother's time has come. But I will take care of you."<br>Questions bubbled unrestrained past my tired filter. "Who are you? Does Mom know you? Are you family? Where are you going to take me? How-?"  
>"Enough."<br>I fell obediently silent.  
>"I am presently only here for a short time. Your questions will be answered in due time, and you will be reminded of something taken from you. Go now to your mother. If you require another conversation in the near future, call the name Hannah."<br>I scrambled for my cell phone to take down her number, but she was gone when I looked up again. I gaped at the empty space, wondering if I'd imagined the whole incident. Either way, I sat with Mom until the babysitter came to take me home.  
>Things progressed quickly in the days following. Hannah told me I'd been chosen to help people. She said I would be in for unspeakable pain and misery, but that I could potentially save the world on more than one occasion. I got scared and asked if I had a choice in the matter. She said I technically did, but once she restored that secret, I'd be begging for that future.<br>There wasn't much to think about. Mom was getting worse by the day, and once she was gone I'd be alone in the world at age twelve. Anyway, I'd come to trust Hannah and whatever power she had that let her vanish and reappear at will. I agreed, hoping that my so-called destiny would be better than a life alone.  
>Mom died. I knew she would, but I still cried. I'd told her so many times that I love her and swore I would truly be looked after when she was gone. She was bewildered at first, but I guess she came to believe me as the tumor sapped her reasoning and vitality. She still looked so beautiful in her pure white casket. She was pale but only sleeping in her clothes like she'd come in from an exhausting yet wonderful night on the town. Her friends all asked me if I would be okay, where I was going, what my plans were. I trusted in Hannah, who'd told me a few cryptic words more than nothing, for the millionth time and assured them I had everything set up for myself.<br>Looking back, I guess I understand why I went along with Hannah's enigmatic crap. It was because something had been dormant inside me for at least a year, a secret smolder, an iron desire for what she was offering even if I didn't know what that offer was. It also explained why I felt like something was missing at the funeral.  
>My one regret is that Mom never remembered.<br>After the funeral, I knew an imaginary hourglass had run out. The babysitter enjoyed evening programming while I packed everything I could fit into two duffel bags that were conveniently lying open on my bed when I got home. Clothes filled the majority of the space. Into what was left I crammed some comic books, my iTouch, a picture of Mom, a small soccer trophy, the smooth silver lighter that had one day appeared int he junk drawer, and a silver cross of Mom's on a manlier chain.  
>Hannah appeared just as I zipped the last bag. "I'm ready to go," I said heavily.<br>"Good. You should not expect to ever return to this place."  
>I nodded stoically.<br>"There is something you must know about your life before we go."  
>"Shoot."<br>"Every nightmare you've ever had, every horror movie you've ever seen, every myth and legend you've ever heard-it's all real. Those things exist in the world alongside humans, and humans are often their prey. It will be you job to fight these creatures and save as many people as you can, but you will not be alone."  
>The black shadow of massive wings appeared behind Hannah. I yelped and staggered back.<br>"I am an angel. I will always be watching over you, though I may not always come when you call or save you when you are in danger."  
>She stretched a hand towards me and it all went black.<br>That first month was a total nightmare, what with waking up in a nineteen-year-old body and fumbling blindly through my first hunt. Hannah only came back and explained a few things when I climbed a building and threatened to jump. She gave me a few pointers and set me loose. I briefly considred running away, but where could I run from destiny?  
>So I hunted, and I grew in the life I came to understand the part about misery and pain. My inexperience earned me many more knocks than a seasoned veteran would have sustained, and I almost died the first time I met a demon. That job didn't work out so well. The demon got away and killed its host before I could recover. I knew then that I need help, but Hannah was ignoring me and I couldn't exactly put an ad out for an apprentice.<p>

_My phone rings. I wedge my drink between the duffel bag and the seat and wipe the residue of fry salt on my pants before answering._  
><em>"Dude, are you dead?"<em>  
><em>Michael. Again. "No, *dude*, I told you I wiping up a spirit. I'll be there in, like, thirty minutes."<em>  
><em>"Okay, okay, just checking. You're the last one out and we were getting antsy. Hey, swing by a shop and pick some drinks, my treat."<em>  
><em>"Yeah. And Michael? Quit callin'."<em>  
><em>"Then hurry up."<em>  
><em>I roll my eyes and stuff the phone back in my pocket. Michael *would* be the one to call. He's such a mother hen.<em>

I was desperately reevaluating my life during one particularly strenuous hunt. It was a shadow creature of some sort that was snatching treats. By some miracle I managed to track it to its sewer lair. Amid fresh skeletons I discovered a boy with shaggy hair who was about my age. That fact alone was surprising; I was blown away when he told me in all seriousness to run because there was a monster somewhere around. I didn't have time to respond before a bullet whizzed past my head. It was an older boy who clearly had the wrong idea. I began to explain myself, which got him to cease fire, but then the shadow came. We fought it off together and made it out in one piece.  
>Michael was the one who shot at me, and it was Asher who I tried to save. They were brothers and-the revelation astounded me-hunters. We were ecstatic to find each other and spent a few days getting to know each other. It eventually slipped out that they should also be much younger. Hannah, predictably, refused to appear for an interview. We hunted together for a bit before going our separate ways and vowed to keep in touch.<br>Michael and Asher weren't the only ones. I met Angela in Washington. She wasn't too fond of me for a while, but she changed her tune after we got trapped in an out-of-order restaurant freezer together. I also picked up Lucas after swooping in just in time to break a will o' wisp's spell on him. We had a merry time picking our way out of the gluey Louisiana swamp mud. Michael called to meet up; I invited Angela and Lucas and Michael brought along a girl named Lanie.  
>Meeting there in that motel room, we knew it was meant to be.<p>

I made my presence known via a few kicks for knocks; my arms were full of six packs. The door opened and I hurried in out of the rain. Greetings rose from everywhere. I smiled at random and deposited my load on the yellowed counter.  
>A flash of ginger hair preceded a crushing hug. I patted Lucas's back as well as I could. "Dude, we thought you drowned!" he exclaimed. The sky backed him up with a clap of thunder.<br>"Nope, just getting drinks. Speaking of which..." I held out my hand. Michael high-fived me reparations with a grin. Asher and I bro-hugged, and I kissed the girls on the cheeks. "Alright, let the games begin!"

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	2. Goal

Going ahead and posting the next chapter for the lulz. Nobody likes backstory narration, I know, but deal with it. The action picks up soon.

Disclaimers and nonsense: Kripke gets Dean and Sam, I get Hannah, we split everyone else unless otherwise stated.

We exchanged stories, showcased recent scars, and presented new discoveries and information on our many quarries. After the business conversation came the wild partying: we cracked into the beer and turned the music up. I thanked my lucky stars they were all okay with the classics. Lucas certainly was-he was wearing his purple and green _Zepplin Rules!_ shirt for the occasion. The conversation erred on the side of increasingly insane as more bottles and cans missed the trashbins.  
>These next few days were the ones I lived for.<br>After realizing our common denominator was Hannah's influence, we formed a sort of team as we grew to like each other. I was the one who came up with the idea of semi-frequent meetings; I'd just found a new family and I wanted to know they were okay. We agreed to regroup at the same motel once every two months and spend three or four days together before splitting up again. During that time we would visit and, more importantly, share information on the monsters we'd hunted in case someone else came across the same thing. Lanie soon suggested we coordinate our license plates so we'd know if a fellow was in town. It was decided that we'd post our initials and a triplicate of our favorite number. Our plates became a sort of code calling card that we manipulated to mean different things. It was like the final confirmation that we were meant to be.  
>The night's part fizzled out around four. I retired to the second room we'd rented. Asher and Mike and I always shared a room. I tripped into my bed and only bothered to lose my shoes and pants.<br>"Ben."  
>"Uhh?" I slurred, looking around. It was Michael. "'Sup?"<br>"I was just wondering...have you...y'know, heard anything?"  
>Unwilling sobriety centered my hazy mind for a moment. "Nah," I said quietly, "nothing."<br>"I'm sorry."  
>"I'm not surprised," I said quickly in a brisk tone to ward off any sappy moments. "No news is good news with our kind, right? Just means they're fine."<br>"Listen, Ben..." Michael sat on the edge of my bed. "Me and Ash can help you look. I can even leave him with Lucas if you just want it to be you and me. You're not the only one who wants to find them."  
>I averted my gaze in annoyance. Michael knew full well that I didn't like talking about them if I could help it. I supposed that was why they were excluded from general conversation. Still, Michael was always the most sensitive about the subject and my feelings on it. Apart from having his own attachments, he was the one who found me that fateful night when Hannah decided to reveal that long-awaited secret.<p>

_ I gazed at the stars and breathed deeply. It was my favorite time of the night: a few hours before dawn, when the dew was the middle of its colonization and everything was cold and fresh and clean._  
><em>I turned to go back inside and almost slammed right into Hannah. I jumped a mile and refrained from instinctively attacking. "Thanks for announcing yourself," I snapped.<em>  
><em> "It's time," she said digressively. "You are ready to receive your memories."<em>  
><em> "Memories? Excuse me? I've got all my memories, what are you-?"<em>  
><em> She gently touched my forehead and at once my whole body was on fire. I hit the ground, drug by the sudden weight in my head. I thought it was going to pull me through the pavement.<em>  
><em> That was when the flashbacks started.<em>  
><em> Working on a sleek black car. Hotdogs at a baseball game. Being picked up from school. Going to the zoo. Singing along to ACDC with the windows open. Him brandishing a sawed-off shotgun with expert ease. All that and more, all featuring the same face that was now too familiar.<em>  
><em> When all the lost memories were through reintegrating themselves, I remained on the ground, panting and massaging my temples and trying to piece together what had happened. Hannah had gone. I was alone in so many ways.<em>  
><em> A door opened and close in the distance. I paid no mind until a voice shouted my name. Soon Michael was hoisting me to my feet and propping me against the Mustang. "Ben, what's wrong?" he demanded. "Ben! Say something!"<em>  
><em> When I finally could, I pathetically muttered, "Dean."<em>  
><em> "What?"<em>  
><em> "Dean. Dean Winchester. Dean..."<em>  
><em> "Who's that?"<em>  
><em> But I was already pushing him away. I dialed Dean's last known cell phone number, only to be told by an automated voice that the number was no longer available. I stared at my phone. The midnight hours of my last memory of him presented themselves. Mom had been stabbed-the demon had stabbed her while it was inside her-and Dean rushed her to the hospital. He disappeared for a while, then came back and told us we'd been in a car accident and he was the one who hit us. But between that, a man in a trenchcoat had appeared out of nowhere and touched our heads. That touch made Mom and me accept Dean's words like we had no idea what really happened.<em>  
><em> Needless to say, I didn't take the revelation well. It was a good thing Michael followed me in his car or I might have done something stupid. He brought me back. I immediately interrogated the others about ever meeting or hearing of Dean or Sam Winchester.<em>  
><em> The answers shocked us all.<em>  
><em> Everyone present had had a run in with the Winchesters at some point. It was what kicked off their supernatural life. Sam had stopped Lanie's dead mother from urging her to kill herself. Dean rescued Lucas from drowing, which explained his fear of water. Angela had been possessed by a demon named Lilith; her first memory of the aftermath was Sam standing over her with a knife. She always attributed her freedom to some ritual he did. And both Winchesters teamed up with Michael to kill something that was feeding on Asher's life force. As for me, well, Dean had been my adopted-I didn't want to think the word-*role model* and he saved my mom from bleeding out.<em>  
><em> That night a goal was made: we would always keep an eye and ear out for the Winchesters. Apart from thank-yous and showing off what we'd become, the know-how they had was completely priceless.<em>

"Ben?" Michael recalled me.  
>"No," I replied a little too surlily. "We'd never find 'em. It'd be a waste of time when we have people to save."<br>Michael understood and bid me goodnight.  
>I glowered into my pillow, focusing my irritation on him. He could really get on my nerves, Michael could. He was Asher's big brother and the second oldest, and that meant he mothered better than the best. He always tried to protect us, especially me. I could never figure out why until it occurred to me that we were the first ones to meet, and I had tried to help Asher, which automatically put me in his good books. I guess he thought I needed looking after, a sharp contrast to my opinion. We'd gotten into it more than once. I supposed that was Dean coming out in me. I wondered if he ever fought with Sam like that, then quickly shut off thinking.<br>I didn't like dwelling on the elusive Winchesters more than necessary. It brought up some very unwanted feelings, and I had enough to deal with. Sometimes I wondered, if I ever did find Dean, whether my greeting would be a hug or a fist to the face.

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	3. Debt

Chapter 3 inbound. There's a myriad of POVs here. See if you can tell who's who from their backstories. **ALSO**: if anybody can tell me how to format these things to make them not look stupid, I'd be much obliged. Y'know, like, definable paragraphs and not a mush of derp.

Disclaimer: I own Hannah, so she can take me to a place where I do own the Winchesters. XD

The Winchesters saved my brother's life. I never really got to thank them as much as I would have liked to. I was young, I was excited to go see Asher, and they were gone by the time I got back. But they had a bigger impact on me than they could ever have realized.

I started looking up information on the supernatural. I remember my first Google search: "stuff about ghosts". I was twelve then and had no idea what I was doing, but I still tried. The showdown with the shtriga...well, there was no going back after that. And I knew I didn't only have to protect Asher from mundane things like getting sick or walking out in traffic. I wanted to be ready in case anything else came.

Even before Hannah came, I often thought about the Winchesters. They became my own personal myth. I couldn't have been more ecstatic when I found out that other kids had interacted with them and been changed by it as well.

I want to find them almost as much as Ben. I owe them a proper thanks, but my real goal is a conversation with Dean. I only agreed to be used as bait because I trusted him on the grounds that he was also a big brother and therefore knew what I was going through. I guess I just want to see if we were any bit alike, and how I measured up.

What I remembered most about Sam Winchester after he whirlwinded through my life was his voice. A voice like that, it's like Morgan Freeman's. It's unforgettable. The way he spoke to a random teenage girl who was spouting crazy talk was and still is astonishing to me. His tone was downy soft, gentle, woven with compassion and understanding and hemmed with amusement at my reluctance to tell the true truth.

I always felt a bit creepy for holding onto something like that for so long. Stalkerish, almost. But I've never heard a voice like that since. It made me trust him instantly-how could I not? His words alone showed what a good person he was.

He saved my brother from becoming road kill, too. So there's also that.

I've been scared spineless of water ever since I was a kid, and boy do I have a good reason. My dad drowned, and I almost went the same way. Would have, too, had it not been for Dean Winchester.

I liked him from the start. There was something about him. He knew how to listen. I wouldn't talk to anybody after Dad died. I dunno why. It was just one of those kid things. But Dean listened to my pictures; he understood what I was trying to say. Then he saved me from drowning like it was nothing. The man's a true-blooded hero, and his brother must be pretty solid as well.

I'd love to find him. I wanna buy him a round and show him my Zepplin shirt. I think he'd be pretty proud.

Everybody had such glowing stories of them. Dean did this, Sam tackled that, they burned such and such. My first memory of Sam Winchester was him standing over me with a knife. I was scared to death, yeah. But looking back, death would have been a nice reprieve from being Lilith's meat suit.

It was like being shackled to the bottom of a volcano. All that raw, evil power coursing through my tiny eight-year-old body was standard for Lilith but terrifying for me. I didn't have a clue what was going on. I remember crying for my mommy and daddy to make it stop. No one heard me. I couldn't see anything, felt nothing but fire.

And suddenly, bam-I'm waking up in my cool, comfy, dark bed and then suddenly staring down a future as an Ang-kabob. Someone stopped Sam from bringing that knife down. I was too horrified to care who.

The aftermath was okay for a while. Night terrors ran rampant through my traumatized little skull and I would cry for my parents. They were supportive until I was about twelve, at which time they told me to stop being scared and grow up already. Not mentioning, of course, that as I got older they blamed me more and more for Grandpa's death. But they didn't know what being chained to a demon was like. They would never understand.

Their intolerance gouged a rift that only grew. As I worked my way into teenagerdom, I took the loner/outcast road. I started smoking, wore only black, and punted my grades into the land of I Don't Give A Crap. To top it all off, I checked out a book on witchcraft from the library and flaunted it.

It was the best decision of my life. I learned all about the supernatural through that book and a few tricks to boot. To this day I'm the one they come to for a spell or hex bag. But my parents weren't too thrilled. They plopped me in therapy and were gearing up for a divorce when Hannah came and made all my dreams come true.

To this day I have no idea what Sam Winchester was doing in my house about to stab me. I'm curious, but I dunno...there's just something about Lanie's recollections of his voice paired with my memories of his face. There's something there that I want. Something that screams safety, acceptance, and perhaps even family.

Alright, mystery over. In order: Michael (Something Wicked), Lanie (Long-Distance Call), Lucas (Dead in the Water), and the little girl from No Rest For the Wicked that I named Angela. Hope you enjoyed!


	4. Encounter

I would first like to say that no amount of apologies will suffice for the rather unplanned two-month hiatus I've taken. I hope the amazing-lovely-wonder-fantastic people who are monitoring this story's progress haven't forgotten about it and are at least slightly appeased. Rest assured that the fans (present and future) of the Heroverse have at least one more super-long fic to look forward to where things really get serious. Also, I'm totally forgiveness-bribing/shamelessly plugging a regular continuity five-chapter fic full of angst, gloriousness, and so-totally-not-slash undertones. Be on the lookout for Big Brother.

Disclaimer: I mostly own the six baby hunters and don't own the Winchesters.

oOoOo

Since the earliest anyone got up was three in the afternoon, we (logically) went to a bar for dinner. It was an average Joe corner side pub that happened to boast a mean burger. I ordered two with the intent to massacre them. Asher and Angie bet me money I couldn't finish both of them. I didn't feel the least bit bad taking their money if they were stupid enough to all but throw it at me.

I let the first delicious half-pound of medium rare meat and assorted burger accessories rest before indulging in the next one. I sipped a raspberry lemonade lazily. It was almost like Mom used to make.

The bar walls were plastered with the usual sports and good ol' USA paraphernalia. Two largely ignored flat screens behind the bar displayed whatever game was on. And the people, I noted as I scanned the room, were about as boring and nondescript as-

I choked violently on my drink. Lucas whacked me on the back. After coughing out a lung, I whirled around to make sure my spectacle had not been in vain.

But no, it was real. There he was-there _they_ were-just as my twelve-year-old mind remembered. My chest tightened with a hard to identify emotion completely unrelated to the embarrassment at having such a reaction. I stared at him so hard that he had to feel it.

The time had come to decide: would I hug him or hit him?

"Ben, what are you staring at?" Lanie finally asked.

I couldn't bring myself to answer or look away. One by one they followed my gaze and their eyes also stuck. Lanie gasped when she registered Sam.

Michael nudged me. "Go over there," he urged loud enough for everyone to hear.

That shook me from my reverie. "No," I said quickly.

"Ben!"

"We don't even know if it's them."

"What's to know?" Lanie said breathlessly. Her cheeks were slightly pink. "That's Sam Winchester."

I shook my head stubbornly. It was suddenly incredibly hot; I shrugged out of my jacket. I suddenly wanted to disappear into the bathroom or something. "They could be demons," I pointed out. "Or shapeshifters. There's no way of knowing."

"Sure there is." Lucas dumped the ice from his empty cup onto the appetizer plate and filled the glass with holy water. Before I could stop him, he staggered towards them in an admirable rendition of the classic drunk. He was careful to slosh the water on both of them, apologize gaily, and continue to the bathroom. I saw Dean roll his eyes.

I turned fully back to our table, half-proud and half-mortified by Lucas's antics. Angie inquired if I wanted to jab them with my necklace next. I glared at her.

Lucas came back and gave me a triumphant look before sitting down. I counted the seconds until it would be acceptable to "get something in my car". The cool evening air soothed my sweaty skin. I gulped in as much as I could.

Dean was in there. Just last night I was thinking about how much I wanted to find him, and now he was right there. It was too perfect to be a coincidence; good things like that rarely happened to me. I glanced suspiciously at the sky to let Hannah know that I immediately suspected her involvement. It was just too perfect...

And I wasn't ready. Having never expected to actually find him, I hadn't the slightest inkling of what I was going to say to Dean. Surely he wouldn't recognize me, so would I introduce myself as Braeden or Sterling, the surname I took on at Hannah's order? What would he say to either of us? He'd probably attack Ben Braeden, assuming evil interference like I had of him. I wasn't supposed to know he existed, after all. But Ben Sterling would mean nothing to him.

And maybe detachment was exactly what I needed at the moment.

I returned cool and collected and complete with a plan. "Looks like we've found our guys," I said to the table at large. "I'm gonna tail them a bit and see what they're up to before we go rushing them like a bunch of love-struck schoolgirls."

It might have been the look on Michael's face that precluded possible disagreement.

I stole glances all evening and each time promised myself I wouldn't look again. Each time I saw Dean it brought back a different memory, all of them good, all of them of my mom alive and happy. It was hard knowing that he wouldn't care about or trust me when I introduced myself to him, but it was definitely for the best.

I went to my car when I saw Sam call for the check. I couldn't help stopping to greet the Impala on the way out. Dean taught me to respect that car like a woman, and she was beautiful as ever. Not long after that I really got to test my driving skills-I had to keep close to the black classic to see where it was going and stay far enough away to remain innocuous.

My heart sank lower the further we drove. The cars thinned as we approached the rougher side of town. I knew they could see me now. I might as well have been honking and waving for as obvious as my cherry-red Mustang was. There could be only one reason to be out this far: I'd caught them in the middle of a hunt. I did not back down, however.

I noted where they parked and drove into an alley a little ways down. I brought along a gun and machete in case the quarry showed its face during our meeting. I returned to the side street they'd taken and looked around. It was deserted. I scowled out of habit. I couldn't have already lost their trail!

In the blink of an eye my back was hitting solid brick wall. My gun clattered to the damp ground, and somebody snatched the machete. I blinked a few times to regain composure, readying myself for a fight, then realized who had me pinned.

"Being tailgated for twelve miles is bad enough, but doing it in a red sports car? That's just sad." Dean's green eyes were in full hunting mode and dangerously close.

I gulped but couldn't think of anything to say except a quiet, "Let me go."

"Not until you tell me why you're stalking us," he snapped.

"Let me _go_!" His attitude somehow made me less afraid, for it was something I could match. I shoved him off and straightened my jacket. "Don't you know another hunter when you see one?"

"That's not really much of a reason for us to trust you."

Sam. I looked up at him while retrieving my gun. I'd heard a bit about him but didn't have time to get to know him in the few days I saw him alive. But Lanie was right: his voice, while steady and firm, was not offensive and rough like Dean's. Here was a man who really knew how to keep his head.

I addressed him instead of Dean. "Really, I'm nineteen. You guys are, what, ancient? I think you've got the upper hand anyway. Can I have that back?" I nodded to the machete.

Sam swung it a few times. "Not until we know what you're doing here."

I sighed. "I don't really know how to begin."

"You could begin by leaving," Dean suggested. I glared and Sam nudged him. "At the beginning," Sam amended.

I scrambled to concoct a solid cover story but was saved the trouble by an awful, inhuman screech. Six black masses crawled down the buildings on either side like Spiderman clones. I jumped and tensed.

"You picked a great time, kid," Dean growled, withdrawing a gun and backing up towards Sam.

"You're probably gonna need this." Sam returned my machete.

Had I come across these monstrosities alone, I would have only had time to wonder what they were before it was all over. They had teeth like vampires, claws like a werewolf, and the agility and wall-climbing of Peter Parker. And unfortunately, all our shots and slashes just seemed to be making them angrier.

Dean initiated a tactical fallback and we ran like little girls down the mazelike alleys, spider-vamps hot on our tail. "I'm calling for back up," I panted, whipping out my phone.

"Back up?" Dean raised an eyebrow at me and expertly jumped a trash bag. "There's _more_ of you?"

I didn't give Michael time to say hello. "We are in deep crap and we need help!" I bellowed into the receiver.

"We? Wait, you're with-?"

"Dude, not the time!"

"Right! GPS on, we'll be there asap!"

I hoped he meant asap literally, because we were reaching the end of the road. An impossible brick wall loomed in the distance. Dean and Sam both swore in unison.

The spider-vamps seemed to know we were at the end of the line. They approached slowly, herding us tighter into the corner. "What are the chances of us holding out until they get here?" I asked. I took the lack of response as a grim prediction.

It reminded me of my first demon, only a lot more painful. Those claws made ribbons of my clothes; the gashes were like miniature infernos raging on my skin. But somehow I held my own against the two I was in charge of occupying and managed to not shoot or stab Sam or Dean.

The vicious rumbling of a Rubicon's custom engine came like the trumpets of judgment day. The spider-vamps cringed and shrieked in the super-bright LED headlights. I was also a bit blinded, but I heard running footsteps and even more pained shrieking and knew we were saved.

"Dude, you got served." Lucas's voice was low in my ear. I didn't realize how weak I felt until he kept me from dropping. "Come on, easy does it..."

"No, wait-Dean, Sam, are they alright?" I squinted through the dazzling headlights. The two tallest silhouettes were refusing help and walking on their own, albeit a tad unsteadily. Michael managed to coax them towards the Jeep. I nodded once, relieved.

Lucas supported me to the car. I was rather irritated when he helped me into the trunk. I slipped on the shifting residue of hunting equipment. "What, you only brought one car?" I grumbled.

"Stop complaining, we could've brought Angie's Cooper," he retorted. "Man, you look awful."

"I'm fine." My eyes were readjusting to the dark. The Winchesters also sustained numerous cuts, but their experience prevented my level of damage.

"Are you _all_ hunters?" Sam asked incredulously as he nursed a particularly nasty scratch across his chest.

"Sure are," Lucas replied cheerily.

"But you're just kids!"

We all got a kick out of that. "You've no idea," Angie smiled.

Michael must have made it his goal to hit every speed bump and pothole on the way back to the motel. Lucas and I both winced; he because Michael had no idea how to drive his baby and I because all the jostling was quite painful, especially with all the guns and other weapons poking into my back. Lanie patched me up as best she could in the car. She was so gentle and soothing that I almost drifted off.

A sudden curse from Dean roused me. "My car's still back there," he realized.

"Don't get your panties in a bunch, she'll be fine," I murmured sleepily. Dean looked over the seat at me. I mentally winced; I probably shouldn't have used that pronoun in referring to the Impala just yet. I covered, "My baby's out there, too. We'll get 'em tomorrow."

"Who _are_ you?"

The car got a little too quiet. Everyone knew at least the very superficial details of why I'd wanted to find the Winchesters. Now was the moment of truth.

"Ben," I said finally, praying he wouldn't think anything of the coincidence.

"Well, Ben, you're a crazy kid and we didn't need your help-"

"-But thanks," Sam finished for him.

I beamed. Just the fact that at least Sam was being nice made my head a little light. Then again, that could have been the bit of morphine Lanie just injected me with.


	5. Revelations

Uhhh…that amazing moment when you realize you have more prepared than you thought. Do you guys love me again? :D Also, comments please. Not that I deserve them, but still. 3

Disclaimer has been disclaimed.

oOoOo

We rolled into the motel parking lot at midnight. I refused to let anyone help me in (Dean was right there; it was an ego thing) and subsequently clipped the door post in my haze of adrenaline and morphine. I tossed my confetti'd shirt in favor of a loose-fitting grey one and stretched shamelessly out on Lucas's bed. Angie wordlessly covered my legs with a blanket and propped my head up with pillows. Normally I was a bit touchy about accepting her help, but I gave her a smile of thanks.

"So?" I asked when everyone had settled in. "What's the verdict?"

"Excuse me?" Dean looked at me.

"Those things. What were they?"

"Whoa, whoa, wait a second." He fixed me with that characteristic look and I rolled my eyes. "You don't really have any room to be askin' questions, kid. You stalk us all the way into a fight, drag us back to some random motel in the Mystery Machine, and then want to know what *we're* hunting? I don't think so!"

I stood up completely. "If you hadn't gone postal and attacked me, maybe I could have had time to explain myself!" I said hotly. "And I evened the odds in *your* hunt, and it was my friends who finished them off!"

"Nobody asked for your help!"

"Well you got it anyway!"

We were in each other's faces. It was then that I realized how awesomely cathartic it was to yell at Dean Winchester.

Sam said quietly, "Dean," just as Michael put a hand on my shoulder to calm me down. Dean and I cast our respective pacifiers' identical annoyed looks but took a step back.

"I'm sorry," Sam said to the room at large, "it's just that we don't have a clue what's going on."

"No big," Michael replied just as diplomatically. "I think we're all-" he looked pointedly at me- "just tired. Listen, we'd really like it if you would stay the night. We'll explain everything tomorrow."

Dean crossed his arms but Sam agreed with good grace.

That night as I pumped myself full of painkillers another mini party broke out to celebrate our doing of the impossible. The Winchesters were now just a room away and sufficiently curious to stick around until all the cards were on the table. I cherished this but little else.

Michael (of course) noticed my lack of enthusiasm and came to sit with me in my corner as the party raged on. "Let me guess," I said sarcastically, "therapy time?"

He was undaunted by my wall. "Doesn't take a genius to know what's going on in there." he tapped my head lightly.

"A steaming pile of nothing."

"Alright." I knew that tone. He was going to humor me. "So when are you gonna tell Dean your last name?"

I crossed my arms and leaned against the wall. I was irritated, but not really at Michael: he'd hit the nail on the head. I had no idea when, or even if, I was going to have that earth-shattering talk. I rather enjoyed being at loggerheads with Dean; it was a vent for my frustration for him allowing our memories to be wiped. And if he knew the real me, he might try to treat me like the Ben whose eighth birthday party he unexpectedly showed up at. But God help me if he found out from anyone else.

"It's complicated," I summed simply.

"You and him should just have a chat," Michael said reasonably. "I dunno, go get some beers or something."

"He'd be mad if I drank," I muttered darkly.

"I can tell you care so much. I know I don't know everything about your history with him, but you're a big girl now. You're a hunter. You and Dean are equals and he's gonna have to accept that. So go get a drink and have it out and whatever's gonna happen will happen. Besides, it'll be a nice segway into us telling them our stories."

My arms unwound of their own accord. I hated when Michael's logic killed my moods. "Thanks, Michael," I sighed.

"Yep."

"No, really. I know I give you a hard time, but-well, I'm glad you haven't kicked me off your counseling list. And thanks for not letting me hit him. Woulda been a bit awkward to explain."

"You wanna slow dance, cupcake?" he teased.

I shoved him in disgust and went for a hard lemonade.

A pack of the stuff later, my nerves were loosened just enough to brave the ordeal of knocking on their door. I sagged with relief when it was Sam who answered. "Hey," I said awkwardly. "I, um...I was just-" I could have bit my tongue off for saying it, but it was the best way in. "I was just coming to apologize to Dean," I forced out. "About earlier."

"I'm impressed," Sam grinned. "You two seem pretty alike, and Dean would never apologize. Guess we know who the bigger man is."

I returned the smile for a split second before a distant call of, "Sammy, who is it?" sent another shot of anxiety through my veins. Dean appeared behind Sam, who stepped aside with a slightly amused look. Dean crossed his arms in unfriendly askance. I stopped to muse on how much he'd changed before speaking.

"Things got a little heated back there and I'm sorry," I said, attempting to be mellow but sincere. "Just kinda hyped-up from the fight and all."

Dean nodded once. I wished it meant bygones were bygones, but there was still expectancy in the way he gazed mistrustfully at me.

"We've sorta been looking for you," I admitted. "We're still new at this and you two have so much experience. The things we could learn-"

"What, us *teach* you?" Dean said as though he couldn't believe what he was hearing. "Why would we do that?"

"Look, I just came to smooth things over," I snapped, my back instantly up. "Nobody said anything about Winchester School of Hunting. I was just stating facts."

I stalked back towards my room and waited until the door closed before kicking a trashcan. I soundly abused Dean before falling silent in my track of pacing.

It was like Hannah had given me totally fake memories of him. The Dean I recalled and the man I'd just got in another tiff with were two completely different people. Or maybe, I realized, they weren't different at all. Dean had probably been this huge of a jerk the whole time but never had occasion to show it. He always seemed so great in my young, inexperienced eyes. A little rough, a little crude, sometimes moody, but still full of qualities to be admired and emulated. What happened to the guy who got me out of that cage a few days after I turned eight?

"Hey."

I whirled around and tensed but it was only Sam. I nodded curtly to convey my irritation with his brother.

"So, teaching, huh?" Sam sat on a bench and motioned for me to join him.

"I guess I just always thought you would-_we_ always thought, I mean. We've heard about you. We know what you're capable of. And to us, just starting out, well...it's kind of like meeting celebrities."

"How long have you been in it?" Sam asked.

"About a year." The length surprised me. Had it really only been a year since Mom died and I found my new family?

"You were eighteen."

I noted his quiet, almost glum tone. "Why? There an age limit I broke?"

A half-laugh. "We're the kings of breaking age limits. I never knew anything but hunting, and Dean was only four. Which is why me and him both are gonna try to get you kids to go home and forget about all this."

"I don't have a home to go to," I told him. "Besides, we can't back out. We've all got blood in this already."

The conversation lulled for a few minutes. I stared at my clasped hands, allowing my thoughts to roar like a flood inside my tired skull. I knew one thing: I liked Sam eons more than Dean. He was easy to talk to and he didn't make me feel like I had to fight for regard. He was already coming to be sort of like an uncle to me, making Dean...

Making Dean a prick I thought I knew but now just wanted to take a swing at.

"You didn't come over to apologize," he stated matter-of-factly.

I barely smiled for a moment. "No."

"What's up?"

"It's complicated."

"When is it not?"

I silently agreed.

"I have to talk to Dean alone," I confessed.

Sam tilted his head, intrigued. "What could you possibly have to tell him that's so private?" he inquired.

"You've met all of us before," I blurted out.

Sam blinked at the digression.

"You probably don't remember, but you've saved every one of us from some supernatural danger, and we all remember. It's one of the things that brought us together. We remembered you guys and what happened on those hunts. It left a pretty big impact."

Sam seemed to be struggling to take in the bombshell. "You mean...every kid in there is someone we've saved?"

"Bingo," I sighed.

He was smiling now in a bewildered way. "I can't believe we made that much of a mark," he muttered more to himself. "When did all this happen?"

"They'd kill me if I ruined their stories. They've been dying to thank you for a long time."

"What about you?"

I gulped in a gust of crisp night air. "I thought it was obvious."

"You kinda lose count after a while."

I forced myself to meet his eyes; Sam was taken aback at all the not-so-happy emotions swimming in my head. "You wouldn't happen to remember Lisa Braeden, would you?"

It was almost an instant reaction: a half a second to process, and then Sam's eyes flew open and he beheld me incredulously. "That's not possible," he said instantly. "You can't be this old-*we're* not that old-you have to be-"

"Going on thirteen?" I finished wryly. "You got it. Guess I'm just big for my age. Don't bother," I added when I saw his hand creep for the flask of holy water on his belt. "I'm not a demon or a shape shifter or anything. I actually thought the same thing about you guys when I first saw you. I'm just a normal human whose number got called by an angel."

"Angel?" Sam repeated immediately. "Was...Was his name Castiel?"

"No, her name was Hannah. Who's Castiel?"

Sam examined the rims of a nearby car. "No one. This Hannah...she called you?"

"Yup. Said it was up to me to fight monsters and save people."

Sam shook his head slowly, absorbing the information. "So...you and Dean..." The recent events jumped into the mix and Sam gave me a thoughtful frown. "Then why have you been bickering with him? I thought you and him got along."

"So did I," I muttered darkly, avoiding his eyes. "That was before he let our memories get wiped and left, and before he was a jerk earlier."

Sam had nothing to say to that. Unfortunately, he was saved the trouble by a door opening. I stood up quite guiltily and looked into Dean's roughly confused expression. "Am I interrupting something?" he inquired with a drawl that instantly pissed me off.

Sam looked between us and watched my eyes narrow and my shoulders tense. "C'mon," he told me softly. "Dean, you need to come out here."

"Why?" Dean asked suspiciously. He raised an eyebrow at him. "Did you brainwash him?"

"No, Dean. Just come here. You need to hear this."

Dean strolled out and stood by Sam with his arms crossed. It might as well have been a showdown at high noon for all the friction between us.

I stared at Dean and slowly the good times came back to me one by one-me handing him tools as he narrated the inner workings of an engine with staticy mullet rock in the background, to name one. Maybe that Dean was still in there somewhere.

I finally dropped my arms in defeat. "I'm sorry, Dean," I murmured.

"Yeah, you said that already."

"But this time I mean it." I managed to meet his gaze. "I was stalking you because for the past year I've wanted nothing more than to find you and talk to you. It's Ben, Dean-Ben Braeden. And I remember everything."

If Sam wasn't there to hold him he would have torn me apart. After tripping through a few curses, he hissed, "How *dare* you, you son of a-"

"Shut up!" I knew where he was going with that. "My mother was Lisa Braeden and you lived with us for a year before going back to hunt. And I can prove it."

I pulled the cross out from its place on my chest and dangled it in the light from the street lamp. Dean's eyes widened in recognition. "Where did you get that?" he demanded.

"I took it from my house, the one *you* made us move to because you were *paranoid*." I took a moment to enjoy lashing out before continuing. "You wanna douse me in holy water or cut me with silver, fine, but it's just gonna waste supplies. You can ask me any question. I can answer it."

"Fine," he snapped. "What football game did I take you to?"

"It wasn't football, it was baseball. Cardinals versus the Sox, Cardinals won eighteen to six, and when you came back from getting me a hat I had three girls giggling over me."

Dean shrugged out of Sam's grip and regarded me with doubt. "You can't be Ben," he said. "Ben would be thirteen soon and there's no way on God's green earth that Lisa would ever let him be a hunter."

"This growth spurt is sponsored by an angel named Hannah, who also conveniently gave me back my memory that you let somebody wipe," I retorted.

"And Lisa?"

I caught the edge to his tone. Dean wasn't asking how I persuaded my mom to let me go. He was asking if she was okay.

I exhaled in a gust. "Brain tumor," I said resignedly. "It was over in two months. I'm...sorry, Dean."

I wanted to look away from the raw expression on Dean's face; the matter felt private even though it was my tragedy as well. But I'd had time to cope; this was a brand new nuke to him.

"I know," I mumbled. "I was pretty torn up about it, too. But I'm glad that's how she went, y'know? Fast. Hardly felt anything. And natural, not because of some demon."

Dean dared to meet my eyes at the last word. He understood what I was getting at.

"You came in and said that we were in a car accident and that you were the one who hit us. You apologized and told me to take care of my mom. I did, as well as I could. But she's gone and I'm on my own now. You're pretty much all I have left of what used to be."

Dean didn't speak. He eventually gave the slightest of nods and went back inside. I watched him go, feeling an odd mixture of regret and strength. Sam cast me a quick sympathetic look and hurried after Dean.

I just went to bed and prayed I wouldn't wake up for a long time.


End file.
